


Empress of Rome

by assassin_trifecta



Category: Bayonetta (Video Games), Devil May Cry
Genre: AU: Vergil is back, AU: no one died, in which I finally make an OC and a poor excuse to use her, look i'm really stretching here this is a self indulgent fic please have mercy, past Vergil/Bayonetta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5974861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassin_trifecta/pseuds/assassin_trifecta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A son was bad enough. Vergil learning that he had one child had thrown him through a loop already, but another one? A daughter? Twins? This was getting out of hand. </p><p>In which Vergil learns that he had not only a son, but a daughter with a past fling, and she was raised as an Umbra witch. When both of his children come to him for answers, it is all he can do to juggle them and another world shattering demonic invasion. Perhaps even their mother will lend her hand in the adventure, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jeanne

Vergil leaned his elbows on his desk, index fingers pressed to his temples in the telltale signs of a migraine. There were certain things he had avoided in his life, things that would only make it more difficult to do his job or just keep living. Jeanne had been one of them. But there she was, hip cocked, hand placed delicately against the protruding side while she raised a silver eyebrow at him expectantly. She’d shown up like this, out of the blue and under the guise that she was perpetually in charge.

            “Well?” The witch asked after a long silence had passed, her free hand splayed wide on his desk that she leaned over. He didn’t know why she thought that would have any effect on him. She had always described him as ‘remarkably cold’ and ‘severely lacking a libido’. Why she tried to tempt him was far beyond Vergil.

            “Well _what_?” The half-devil asked, not bothering to look up at her. She’d only think that it was some kind of gain to get him to pay attention to her. “Is there a reason that you’re here, Jeanne?”

            The woman let out an indignant huff, no doubt irritated that he wouldn’t give her the time of day. _Good_ , he thought, closing his eyes tight as she stepped away from his desk. _Maybe she’ll see how futile the game is and finally leave me alone_. A few seconds with Jeanne felt like a lifetime to him, after all. It was even worse with her coven-sister.

            “Well, aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?” Jeanne finally spoke when she was halfway through the shop’s room, turning to look back at where Vergil sat at his desk. Devil May Cry had become a sort of hub of underground supernatural activity after he’d signed on with Dante after the Fortuna case, and things took off from there. They were getting jobs from anywhere in between housewives to mob bosses to now, it seemed, witches. Jeanne looked at him expectantly still, and when Vergil didn’t make indication of reply, she let out another theatrical sigh.

            “Bayo and I are wondering when you’re going to send over the child.” She finally stated, looking around the shop front with an air of disinterest. No doubt it didn’t suit her style at all, and Vergil was suddenly very pleased with the placing of every single dust mote. If he could congratulate Dante on his lack of cleaning skills, Vergil would – though he normally wished to deter that type of behavior. Jeanne’s lip curled as she analyzed the room further, from the broken juke box to the tattered red leather couches. “She’s getting antsy, you know.”

            “No, I don’t.” Vergil stated, finally looking up at the witch. This seemed to pin her attention back on him, as she returned to her place in front of his desk. “In fact, I’ve done remarkably well to cut the two of you out of my life.” He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed behind his neck in a laid back pose that he’d probably picked up from his brother. “Besides – Nero is an adult, he’ll decide full well when he wants to go see his mother or not.”

            “Does he even know he _has_ a mother?” Jeanne asked, her tone set as though she didn’t believe Vergil would tell his own son anything. As if they hadn’t had this discussion before. She was partially right – Vergil hadn’t been there to tell his son _anything_ for the predominant portion of his life, but now that they were united and starting on the journey to a rocky relationship, they’d discussed it all, almost. Vergil told Nero about his mother, about his less than planned birth and the implications that it held for him. The teen had been upset of course, that was understandable, but he’d gotten over it in time. Vergil had left it up to him whether he do anything with the information. After all, now that Fortuna was shattered and he and Kyrie were free to live lives of their own, he could do whatever he wanted.

            The implications that Jeanne was insinuated were downright insulting.

            “I’ve told him everything,” Vergil remarked, glaring at the ambassador to his child’s mother. All the nerve Jeanne had, sticking her nose into places where it didn’t belong. He wondered briefly if Cereza knew her dear friend was here, in the first place. “In fact, I find it rather insulting,” he continued, eyes narrowed to an icy glare as he stood up in indignation. “That you would insinuate that I didn’t tell my son about his mother. Nero knows all that he needs to know at this point, and he will learn whatever more he desire if he either asks myself or Cereza, should he so desire to contact her.”

            Jeanne scoffed, the disgusted noise still managing to sound elegant coming from her plush lips. Vergil narrowed his eyes at her, waiting for the inevitable storm to break free from the silver haired witch. She had a low tolerance for insolence, and Vergil had a remarkably low threshold for catty women that thought they could boss him around. It looked like the witch was just about to summon her magic against him when the door to the shop banged open.

            “Hey old man!” Nero shouted into the open space, seemingly unaware that anyone but Dante would be in the shop. He stopped dead when he saw Vergil rising to his feet, Jeanne’s fingers twitching over her gun on her hip. He stared between the two of them, clearly shocked at what he had walked in on.

            “Uh, sorry-“ He started, taking one step back. “I don’t mean to interrupt whatever-“ He gestured with human hand, between the two of them. “This is. Thought Dante would be here. My bad.” Nero retreated further back towards the door, unable to take his eyes off of his father and the strange woman.

            Vergil sighed, dragging a hand over his face in order to compose himself and his expression.

            “Nero,” he began, stopping the younger devil in his tracks. “Nero this is Jeanne, an Umbra witch.” He gestured towards the woman who still held her hand over her gun in uncertainty. “She is a dear-“

            “Friend of your mother’s.” Jeanne snapped back to herself immediately, her hand fluttering to her side instead of to her gun. She took three confident strides to where Nero stood, her hips swaying dangerously with each step. She held her free hand out to the boy, who stared at it briefly before accepting it in a short hand shake. “I consider her a sister, really, we’re from the same clan. It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, Nero,” Vergil could hear her laying the charm thick into her words, no doubt trying to bewitch his son onto her side. “Your father and I were just speaking about you.”

            Dammit. Vergil collapsed back into his desk chair, knowing that Jeanne had already succeeded in alienating his son when the boy looked at him with an accusatory stare.

            “You were?” Nero asked, blue eyes narrowed to points, pinning down his father. When he spoke again, it was in a mockery of Jeanne's inflections. “Whatever about?”

            “Jeanne is trying to convince me to ‘give you up’ to your mother for the month.” The half-devil replied with a sigh, shaking his head. “Neither of them seem to understand that you are your own man and can make that decision for yourself.” He gestured to his son. “So go ahead, Nero, take all the time that you need but decide for yourself whether or not you wish to see your mother.” Vergil brought his fingers back up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “If it will at all get this harpy off of my back.”

            Vergil heard Jeanne scoff, but she offered no other input into the conversation.

            “Alright.” Nero shrugged, looking between his father and the witch. “But I mean, couldn’t she come here herself?” The teen glanced around, as if to see his mother step out behind the juke box of Vergil’s desk. “She had to send her friend to harass my father?”

            Jeanne gave him a charming smile, but Vergil was pleased to see that it didn’t work on Nero the way that she undoubtedly assumed it would. He stared at her expectantly until her lips fell.

            “Demons.” She huffed the sigh under her breath, undoubtedly knowing that both son and father could hear her complaint. “Very well, boy,” She continued, stepping towards the door of the shop. “Come with me for now. Your mother has important business to attend,” She tilted her head to the side ever so slightly, just showing off the smirk that twisted the top corners of her lips. “Like sending along your sister.”


	2. Octavia

Vergil didn’t have time to register what Jeanne had thrown at him. She had Nero in a portal, and in seconds they were gone, the teen looking back at his father in shock and – more importantly – betrayal. But Vergil had been given no indication as to the whereabouts of his… his _daughter_ let alone her existence! The half-devil stared at the spot where his son and Jeanne had vanished, unsure of himself or what he should be doing. He felt like he needed to take action. To go hunt down Bayonetta and demand-

            He didn’t have long to think, either. Before he was even on his feet again, another portal appeared in the center of the shop.

            And a young woman, startled and bearing the familiar traits of a child of Sparda, stumbled through.

            The portal closed and the young woman seemed more startled than Vergil was. She stood, frozen, in the center of the shop, her eyes trained straight ahead for a long moment. Slowly, she eventually looked up at the man before her, and Vergil was almost struck down by her glance.

            This was the daughter Jeanne had been hinting at.

            There was no mistake. Her hair was as snowy white as Vergil’s was, and her eyes the same icy blue that ran in their family. If the resemblance wasn’t enough, Vergil could feel the slight hint of demonic energy billowing off of her, coupled with a familiar hint of magic that he remembered from his mother and from… her mother as well. She certainly smelled of Sparda’s lineage, and Vergil wasn’t at all surprised that she was versed in magic, as she had more than one bloodline of impressive Umbran witches pumping through her veins.

            “Are you… Vergil?” she asked, staring wide eyed at the man before her. She spoke like bells and even her uncertainty was charming. She had certainly inherited her mother’s vocal inflections. She straightened, and though her concern still showed through her hunched shoulders, Vergil could see that she was as tall as her brother and on her way up. When he didn’t answer her, the girl’s lips turned down in a slight frown. “Right,” she continued, taking a step back. “Sorry to have interrupted your day, sir, pretend that you never-“

            “No, wait,” Vergil got to his feet again, stepping in front of his desk and toward the young woman. He moved slowly, not wanting to startle her further. “I am Vergil,” he continued, reaching out a hand toward the girl. “What’s your name?”

            “My name is Octavia.” She started, moving back towards the man, reaching out to take his hand in a short, hesitant shake. “I was told that you’re my, uh-“

            “Father.” Vergil finished, taking his hand back quickly. He clasped both hands behind his back now, unsure of what he should do with them. It was this awkward when he first spoke to Nero. A little more violent, perhaps, but just as awkward as now. He would like the excuse that he had no idea what to do, but in truth Vergil had already done this. He _should_ know what to do, by all means. He’d had this conversation once in the past year at least, and he should have been able to do it again, but Octavia was… completely different from her brother.

            “Yeah.” The young woman cleared her throat, glancing to the side and then around the shop. To her credit, Vergil almost couldn’t see the slight hint of disgust on her face. “My father.” She stared between Vergil and the rest of the shop, morphing her face into what she thought could be a kind enough smile. “So this is where you… live?”

            “Work.” Vergil replied, one hand falling to the top of his desk. “My brother and I share this as a work space, I live just outside of town.”

            Octavia seemed unreasonably relieved at this revelation, but Vergil couldn’t begrudge her that. Devil May Cry was never in the best condition, no matter how many times he or Dante tried to clean it up. Still, the girl tried her best to not seem as awkward as she felt in the old shop. Vergil took a closer look at his daughter, now that they were well enough on conversational terms.

            She stood around 6’2”, shorter than her father but around the same height as her brother. Snow white hair fell down past her shoulders, parted carefully to cover her left eye, though there was only so much that white hair could do to hide a black eye patch. Vergil noted this, and decided to come back to it. She wore jeans and an exceptionally tailored black leather coat, and – Vergil was pleased to note – much unlike her mother, Octavia wasn’t wearing any variety of gun. There was a whip on one of her hips and – satisfyingly enough – a sword on her other.

            “You don’t use guns.” The half-devil remarked, thinking it a better option than bringing up her patched eye. “Deviating from your mother’s path?”

            Octavia let out a short, embarrassed laugh. “I used to,” she started, a hand rubbing at the back of her neck. “But then it came time to make my first contract. I was using my mother’s old guns at the time, heirloom things that were beautiful and deadly. Then when the demon came from Inferno, she almost went berserk when she caught sight of me. Screaming about the blood of Sparda and well… she wanted me _then_ not later when I died.” The hand on her neck darted forward to rub at the edge of the eye patch, an old habit that told Vergil all he needed to know about the item. “Her blood got on me,” the young woman continued, fingers curling around the edge of the patch, and Vergil suddenly wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the rest of this story. “Into my eye. Then I started to… mutate.”

            When she raised the patch up, Vergil was relieved to see that there was nothing grotesque hidden underneath, though Octavia appeared to certainly think it was. Instead of its human counterpart on the other side of her face, a bright blue eye stared back at Vergil, the same color but taking up the entirety of the socket and _glowing._ The skin around the socket had turned leathery, but the further out it went it turned hard and scaly. It cascaded back, veined and clearly demonic. The leathery skin was dark blue, the outward scales a reddish hue to them. It looked grisly at first, but Vergil immediately knew the reason she had reacted to the devil blood in such a way.

            “Your body couldn’t handle a full transformation.” He mused, staring at the partially demonic skin around his… _daughter_ ’s eye. “It forced what it could in reaction to the demon’s blood, but since you’re predominantly human it could only go so far.”

            “Yeah, but my magic,” Octavia continued, pressing the patch back down over her face and adjusting her hair so it once again hid the offending section. “My magic lets me spread it further. I freaked. The contract demon freaked. Mom had to step in and put a stop to it. That’s when-“ Octavia sighed, passing her hand through her hair. “That’s when I first asked mom who my father was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have mercy I wrote this at like two AM and I've never allowed myself to have an OC before.


	3. Family Life

            “Wait, first – the bit about your magic.” Vergil leaned back against his desk, crossing his ankles over each other, and gestured at the girl, indicating that she should go further to explain. “What do you mean it can let it spread further?”

            Octavia’s cheeks darkened slightly in her embarrassment. She should have never brought it up, she knew, but Vergil would have found out sooner or later and she would rather prefer to get it all out on the table before anything strange happened between them. She was more used to doing this in _Purgatorio_ , but Octavia supposed that she should be ready to use her magic on all realms, at all times of the day. And so she stepped back further, so that she could avoid casting her father into the magic circle as well.

            She started her spell easily, already well versed in the words behind it and the writing of the circle. It appeared on the floor beneath her, and she felt the power surge through her as she spoke the words, summoning the power of her demonic heritage into herself. It pained her, but she felt the familiar tightening of her skin, the hardening of it spreading from the mutated place on her eye, further down her face and her neck. It extended beyond her shoulder, flattening her chest and all the way down her arm. When the spell finished, Octavia stood in the center of the shop, panting hard from exertion but completely changed.

            Her face was armored by the same red scales, hair pushed back beyond her ears to morph into two thick horns. Her left arm and half of her chest were morphed with the scale and hardened hide as well, her nails long and red and more akin to blades than anything else. The transformation hadn’t extended all the way across her torso, but the front of her was the armored carapace that Vergil associated with the demons in his life. Her eyes blazed the same cool blue that her singularly mutated left one had before, but her face was flattened and the slits of her nose flared every time she let out a heavy breath. Octavia gnashed her teeth together, fangs protruding where she didn’t cover them with thin lips.

            Vergil recognized at least a partial trigger when he saw one. She had used her magic to extend the original mutation in her eye all the way down to her hips. It was an impressive feat for a woman who was more human than she was demon, and Vergil could see the strain that it took on her and her magic.

            “You can’t keep this up for very long, can you?” Vergil asked, but he needn’t have. Almost as soon as the words passed his lips, Octavia collapsed on the shop floor, human again save the patched portion of her eye.

            The witch groaned in pain, pressing her palm to her mutated left eye. “It extends a little bit every time I do that,” she explained, rising to her feet without help from her father. Vergil hadn’t offered it to her and she was pleased with that, to a degree. She could take care of herself, but she would have liked to know if she mattered or not. Her mother had warned her that he was a tad… heartless. “But no,” she continued, gesturing to herself when she was standing in front of him again. “I can’t keep it up very long. There’s more witch in me than demon, after all.”

            Vergil didn’t like the accusatory nature with which she spoke to him, but he didn’t have time to act on it. The door to the shop slammed open and a booming voice rang out before Vergil even caught sight of the newcomer.

            “Hey Verge!” Dante called, stripping himself of his red coat while he walked. “We’re gonna have a – Oh.” He stopped dead when he caught sight of the girl standing in the center of the shop, who looked so much like his brother and himself. He stared at her, blinking for a moment, before he turned to his brother. “Looks like she got here alright.” Dante cast a charming smile at his niece. “Nice to see you again, Octavia.”

            Vergil stared, confounded by his brother’s behavior. Even worse, Octavia nodded her head in greeting to Dante and gave him a short, embarrassed smile. She was still out of breath, and obviously still in pain because of the exertion her previous spell had put on her, but neither of them paid any attention to the matter. No one did. In fact, Vergil was more consumed with the idea that his brother new about this girl before he ever did.

            “Dante?” Vergil asked. When he caught his brother’s attention, the older twin gestured between the two of them. “Do you mind explaining?”

            It took a moment for the younger sibling to understand, but when he caught on he only grinned. “Oh right, yeah, sorry Verge – I was on this job, right? Lo and behold this babe comes in guns blazing – crashing the whole party.” He moved as he started his story, tossing his coat onto the back of his seat at a desk adjacent to Vergil’s before slamming himself down onto the weathered chair. He propped his legs up before continuing, looking between his confused brother and embarrassed niece.

            “So I’m like ‘What the hell?’ right? I’m in a tough situation, there’s this total babe here but she’s completely messed up my gig. She turns to me, gives the whole ‘son of Sparda’ shtick, and before I know it my ass is being carted out of there witch style.” He gestured to Octavia. “Next thing I know I’m standing in some old bar with the kid, a demon and – get this Verge – Enzo Ferino. Had no idea that fat fuck was still alive after the shit you pulled back then, but there he was, shouting and belligerent as always.” Dante kicked his feet up on his desk, sending an old can and a few pens scattering away from his feet. “So I ask what’s goin on and before I know it another babe is walking through the door. ‘Cept this one’s different because I recognize something about her.

            “She’s talkin before I can even pin what about her’s got my memory working, and it’s something along the lines of the whole ‘sons of Sparda’ thing and I tune out, I’m gonna be honest. The other one just gave me this spiel and I’ve heard it enough, y’know? So I’m thinking, and then it hits me. She smells like the kid – like Nero. So I tune back in before the big reveal and she tells me that she’s Nero’s mom, and I’m completely floored!”

            Dante gives his brother an accusatory glare, dropping his feet down so that he can lean forward to emphasize it.

            “Why you ever let that one go, Verge, I’ll never know. But anyway,” he continues, shaking his head. “I was gonna center in on that shit, but I can’t make a move on my brother’s old fling, right? So I start to listen, and she’s telling me about this kid.” He gestured to Octavia, who’s done her best at this point to hide behind her hair even more than she already was. “Turns out the kid’s got a twin. Their mother didn’t leave her behind because she was a promise of another Umbra witch, but the kid was dead weight while she was on the move from angels.”

            Vergil glanced over at his daughter, who seemed even more mortified by this. No doubt she had known about Nero her whole life, and no doubt she felt tortured that her mother gave him up and not her. He wondered, briefly, how Nero was handling with Jeanne and Cereza. His instinct to fight might not go over well with his mother or her deranged friend.

            “So why didn’t I ever know about the two of you?” After a moment of silence, Octavia finds her voice, but immediately after asking she’s embarrassed again. There were probably too many reasons for that. Her mother’s perpetual grudge against Vergil leaving might have done the trick. Their jobs. There were a number of things, she was sure.

            “We’re demons.” Dante shrugged, as if this was the most obvious thing, but Vergil wasn’t satisfied with that answer. He ran his hand over his face, exasperated.

            “We’re _half_ -demons.” He corrected, glaring at his brother. “Worse yet, we’re the sons of the knight Sparda, which is no doubt why your initial contract went wrong. Our father wasn’t considered very highly in Hell once he sealed away all of the demons and the majority of his power. There’s been a grudge match against he and his ever since. Demons killed our mother to get back at him.”

            A vague hint of understanding started to pass across Octavia’s face. Vergil watched as his daughter put the pieces together, between her botched first contract and the information that her father had given her. She knew the legends, of course. Of the Umbra witch Eva and her contracted demon who she fell in love with. Of the Dark Knight who had saved humanity with the help of the witches. These were stories that she was familiar with, from her mother and from the journals that Eva left behind. Her mother had taken her to the remains of an Umbran library, and the books were still intact, among others. Between Sparda’s magic and Eva’s, she had lived… a very long time. Her books were enlightening.

            “I’m sorry.” Octavia managed after a moment. Truly, she was. She would have been floored to know the witch Eva, and she was sure that if her grandmother were alive, her father would never have been able to run from her, her mother, and her twin. “Eva’s stories were always a wonder to read.”

            “Her stories?” It was Dante that spoke again, this time from behind a magazine. It was a fashion tabloid, and he peered over the edge of it, eyes narrowed in scrutiny of the young woman. “What stories?”

            “Her journals, in the Umbran libraries. They’re scattered around the places that she studied, but grandmother Eva had amazing tales to tell. Between her magic and Sparda’s, she lived an exceedingly long time, long enough to chronicle her life. The ones that I was able to read were set in Italy. Just after she and the witches aided Sparda in sealing up Hell.” There was pride in her voice at knowing this, knowing this tale of their mother – her grandmother – that they didn’t. It surprised her that Eva had not told her sons the stories of her life, but she supposed that their youth when she was killed would have stopped her from such things.

            Vergil and Dante both stared at her, slack jawed. Dante’s magazine had fallen from his grasp and Vergil looked as though he’d been slapped in the face.

            “Would there be – any chance that you could get those journals for us, kid?” Dante asked, speaking when his brother failed to, asking the question they both held in their hearts. Knowing more about their parents, their mother especially, would set them at ease, somewhat. Give them closure that they needed.

            “I’m sorry,” Octavia apologized, frowning. “Even if I was able to, I don’t think I could. There are laws stopping me from sharing that information, and there’s no way for me to get back to the library without my mother’s help and… Well, I don’t know where she is.”

            That took Vergil by surprise. Dante said that they had been together a short time ago, what could have happened between then and now?

            “I’m too far away from her – I think she might be in _Purgatorio._ ” Octavia shrugged her shoulders. “No doubt trying to show Nero around.”

            “Is that why Jeanne stole my son from me?” Vergil asked, lips tightened into a straight line. “To _show him around_?”

            “Yes and no,” The young woman replied, shaking her head. She would have been afraid of someone like Vergil when she was a little girl, but after everything she had suffered at the hands of demons, even her father’s cold behavior couldn’t unsettle her. “Mother’s been feeling oddly sentimental lately. Says she regrets her actions more than, she’s sure, you regret yours. She wanted to make a trade, but knew you would never agree to anything so she just… went through with it on her own.” That was her mother, always working against the expected. “Plus, she wanted me to learn more about your side of the family. About this.” She added, gesturing to the patch over her eye.

            “And why is that?” Vergil asked, raising a snowy eyebrow. “Could she not have taught you of it on her own?”

            “She said that only a son of Sparda could explain to his descendants what was happening to them.” Octavia frowned. “Look, I know you don’t want me here, I can go – I _will_ go. I just… wanted to see you.” She shrugged, at a loss for what she could do to salvage the situation. Her father clearly didn’t want her there. Valued her brother higher than she. How long Nero had been under his care, she didn’t know, but it was obvious that he would not be taking another child on. She had a mother, and that appeared to be good enough for him. Before she turned to go, Octavia sighed. “Thanks, dad.”

            “Whoa whoa whoa,” Silent until now, Dante leaned his chair forward again and slammed his feet back down to the floor to catch Octavia’s attention. “Where do you think you’re going, kid?”

            “Um… home?” Octavia guessed, gesturing towards the door. She could catch a train back to Manhattan. Teleporting again after wasting so much energy on her transformation wasn’t going to be good for her, and she would need that power if she was going to try and get a contract again. “I figure it’s the best place to figure out where mom and Nero went so I can return him to you.”

            “Yeah but you came here to learn about our side of the family.” Dante pointed out, frowning. “You got some crazy eyeball shit going on that only we’re going to be able to help you out with.” He stood now, stepping around his desk and shoving his brother to the side when he noticed Vergil about to make an objection. “Don’t mind grumps over here, he hates people. Let uncle Dante show you the ropes of the family.”

            The offer was tempting. Octavia looked between her father and uncle, her brow knit together an indication that her mind was working a mile a minute over the prospect of staying.

            “I’ll have to find someplace to live.” She finally stated, resting her eyes back on Dante. “But I guess I could stay.”


End file.
